Andrei almost collapsed onto the sofa behind him.
His hands disappeared into his hair before dragging down over his face. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and stared at the floor between his feet.
My kept woman.
Claire's words refused to leave him alone.
Seven years.
Seven years of loving her, returning to her, wanting her, and somehow leaving her feeling as though she had never been anything more than a woman he visited when it suited him.
He had never wanted to hurt her.
Not once.
He had loved Claire for as long as he could remember, although remembering the exact moment that love had begun was easy.
It had started with a red dress.
A ridiculous, fiery red dress that clung to her curves as though it had been made specifically for her, a pair of black boots, and a smile that had somehow managed to turn his entire world upside down.
Andrei closed his eyes.
For a moment, the penthouse disappeared.
The silence gave way to music, the faint clink of glasses, and a woman's laughter that he could still remember as clearly as if she were standing beside him.
Santa Cruz.
Blue Lagoon.
The night he met Claire.
---
Andrei had travelled to Los Angeles for business, intending to spend a few days attending meetings before returning home. One of his business partners had subsequently invited him on a trip to Santa Cruz, and after a little consideration, he had accepted.
He needed the distraction.
Home had become increasingly difficult to bear. There was too much happening with Ivan and Eleanor, too much tension surrounding Rege, and too much of his father's presence in every conversation, every decision, every uncomfortable silence.
Andrei loved his family.
That did not mean he always wanted to be around them.
For once, he wanted an evening in which nobody expected anything from him.
No family obligations. No business discussions. No arguments disguised as conversations.
Just a drink, some music, and a few hours in which he could forget himself.
On his first night in Santa Cruz, he found himself standing outside a nightclub called Blue Lagoon.
He glanced at the sign above the entrance.
Blue Lagoon.
An unconventional name, he thought, for a nightclub.
Still, the music spilling through the entrance sounded promising, and the place appeared considerably more casual than the expensive establishments he usually frequented with business associates.
That was precisely what he wanted.
Inside, the atmosphere was lively without being overwhelming. Coloured lights moved across the walls, catching on the polished bottles behind the bar. The dance floor was already occupied, and the air carried the mingled scents of perfume, citrus, and freshly poured drinks.
Andrei chose a seat at the far end of the room, where he could observe the crowd without drawing much attention to himself.
He ordered a Moscow Mule.
The bartender set the drink before him, and Andrei lifted the glass, taking a measured sip as he settled back into his seat.
For the first time in days, nobody was asking him to solve anything.
He could get used to this.
The entrance opened several minutes later.
Two women walked in together, laughing about something that had apparently happened outside. One wore a black leather miniskirt and a matching jacket. The other—
Andrei's glass paused halfway to his mouth.
She wore red.
Not a subtle shade, either. The dress was short, fitted tightly to her figure, and cut low enough to make no attempt at modesty. Black knee-high boots completed the outfit, while deep red lip gloss accentuated her smile.
Her dark brown hair fell around her shoulders, her short bangs framing a pair of deep brown eyes that seemed almost impossibly dark beneath the shifting lights.
She was beautiful.
Andrei knew that immediately.
What he hadn't anticipated was the sudden difficulty of looking anywhere else.
The women approached the bar, still talking over each other.
The woman in red ordered a Cosmopolitan. Her friend requested a Frozen Strawberry Margarita.
Andrei returned his drink to the table and watched as the bartender placed their orders before them.
The two women exchanged a look.
Then, to his considerable surprise, they downed their drinks as though they were drinking water.
Andrei's eyebrows rose.
Seriously?
The woman in red placed her empty glass on the counter and laughed at something her friend said.
Then the music changed.
The opening of Rihanna's Please Don't Stop the Music filled the club.
Her reaction was immediate.
"Oh, my God!"
Andrei couldn't hear every word over the music, but he saw her grab her friend's hand, say something excitedly, and hurry toward the dance floor.
Her friend followed, laughing.
Andrei watched the woman in red move into the crowd.
And then he forgot about his drink entirely.
She danced as though the music belonged to her. Her hips moved effortlessly to the rhythm, her hands rising above her head as she turned beneath the coloured lights. She laughed with her friend, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and sang along to the song without the slightest concern for who might be watching.
There was nothing hesitant about her.
She didn't keep checking her reflection in the darkened windows or glance around to see whether anyone approved of her movements.
She was simply having a good time.
Andrei found himself smiling into his glass.
He couldn't remember the last time he had watched someone enjoy herself so completely.
A man approached her from the side.
He looked to be in his late thirties and wore the sort of confident smile Andrei had seen countless times in men who believed a woman's attention was theirs for the asking.
The man took another step.
Then his eyes met Andrei's.
Andrei hadn't realised he'd been staring at him until the stranger's smile faltered.
He held the man's gaze without expression.
The man hesitated before changing direction.
Andrei returned his attention to the dance floor.
He hadn't come here intending to police the room, but there was something about the woman's carefree manner that made him unwilling to watch someone spoil her evening.
He left his drink on the table and moved closer to the dance floor, stopping a short distance away.
He wasn't dancing.
He had no intention of dancing.
He was simply keeping an eye on her.
At least, that was what he told himself.
A few minutes later, someone slipped into the space behind her.
Andrei noticed the man's movement a second too late.
The stranger moved close and placed his hands on her waist, far too familiar for someone she had never invited to touch her.
Andrei was already moving toward them.
He hadn't yet decided what he would say or how he would remove the man's hands when the woman spun around.
Her heel came down hard on the stranger's foot.
The man recoiled with a sharp wince.
"What the—"
He lifted his hand, his face twisting with anger.
Andrei quickened his pace.
He didn't get there in time.
She caught the man's raised wrist before he could strike her.
"Stay the hell away from me."
Her voice cut through the space between them.
For one brief second, the man stared at her as though he couldn't believe she had dared to resist him.
Then he looked at her expression, glanced at the people nearby, and seemed to reconsider his options.
He pulled away and limped into the crowd, muttering under his breath.
The woman watched him leave.
Then she turned back toward the music.
As though nothing particularly interesting had happened.
Andrei stopped a few feet away.
He had been prepared to intervene. He had even imagined, for one absurd moment, that he might have the opportunity to play the hero.
Instead, the woman had handled the situation herself.
Quite efficiently, too.
He was still taking that in when she turned her head.
Their eyes met.
Andrei had spent enough time around people to recognise curiosity when he saw it. Her gaze moved over his face, lingering on his eyes, and her lips curved into a small, knowing smirk.
He held her gaze.
She raised her eyebrows slightly, as if silently asking whether he had been watching her.
Andrei made no attempt to deny it.
Her smirk deepened.
Then she turned away and continued dancing.
That was it.
No nervous smile. No attempt to thank him for something he hadn't even done. No embarrassment at being caught noticing him noticing her.
She simply returned to the music.
Andrei stood there for another moment before letting out a quiet breath of amusement.
Interesting.
He stayed where he was while she danced with her friend, occasionally throwing her head back in laughter. She seemed entirely aware of his attention now, and if anything, she appeared to enjoy it.
Andrei had the uncomfortable suspicion that she was deliberately making it difficult for him to look away.
He wasn't entirely certain she was doing it for his benefit.
He wasn't entirely certain he cared.
---
Eventually, the song ended, and the two women made their way back to the bar.
They were both flushed from dancing, their hair slightly dishevelled. The woman in the leather jacket pulled it off almost immediately, fanning herself with one hand while her friend leaned against the counter.
The woman in red opened her mouth to speak to the bartender.
Before she could, a glass of cold water appeared in front of her.
She paused.
Then she turned.
Andrei stood beside her.
Up close, her eyes were even more striking.
"Thought you might need this," he said.
Her gaze dropped briefly to the glass before returning to his face.
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
She picked up the water and began drinking.
Andrei rested one hand against the counter.
He had expected a thank-you, perhaps a teasing remark.
He hadn't expected her to keep looking directly into his eyes as she drank, as though she had decided that looking away would be an unnecessary concession.
He held her gaze for as long as he could.
When she finally lowered the glass, a few droplets clung to her lower lip.
She caught them with the tip of her tongue.
Andrei's attention slipped to her mouth before he could stop himself.
He swallowed and brought his eyes back to hers.
Her expression suggested she had noticed.
Of course she had.
She placed the empty glass on the counter.
Andrei extended his hand.
"Andrei."
She glanced at his offered hand, then at his face.
"Claire."
Her fingers slipped into his.
Her handshake was firm, her palm warm against his.
Neither of them looked away.
"Would you like to go on a walk with me?" he asked.
The question came out more directly than he had intended.
He was still holding her hand.
Claire's eyebrows lifted.
Before she could answer, her friend leaned forward against the counter.
"Hi, handsome. Mia here."
Claire's attention snapped toward her.
Mia attempted a smile, but it was accompanied by a rather unsteady sway that made Claire close her eyes briefly.
"Oh, Mia."
Her friend giggled.
Then she nearly slid off her stool.
Claire released Andrei's hand and caught Mia around the waist.
"Easy, darling."
Andrei stepped in to help steady her.
"Sorry," Claire said, laughing softly as she adjusted her friend's arm around her shoulders. "She's a light drinker."
Andrei looked at Mia, who appeared perfectly pleased with herself despite her obvious difficulty remaining upright.
"Clearly."
Claire shot him an amused look.
He smiled.
"We should get her a cab," he suggested. "Get her home safely."
"That's probably a good idea."
Andrei paid for their drinks before helping Mia toward the entrance. Claire retrieved her friend's jacket from the back of the stool and followed them outside.
The night air was cooler than the club, carrying the faint scent of the ocean. Music still thudded behind the closed doors, but out on the pavement, the sounds of passing cars and distant voices became easier to distinguish.
Andrei flagged down a cab.
Between them, he and Claire helped Mia into the back seat. Mia mumbled something neither of them understood before settling against the seat.
Claire leaned toward the open window and gave the driver the address.
Andrei paid the fare.
The driver confirmed the destination and pulled away from the curb.
Claire watched the cab disappear down the street.
Then she turned toward Andrei.
Her eyebrows were raised.
He slipped his hands into his pockets.
"What?"
She studied him from beneath her bangs.
"Is that just for getting laid?"
For a moment, Andrei simply stared at her.
Then he laughed.
"Of course not."
Claire's expression remained suspicious.
"So you don't want to get laid?"
"Yes—" He stopped.
Her lips twitched.
Andrei closed his eyes briefly.
"No. That's not what I meant."
Claire burst out laughing.
He looked at her, then began laughing too, unable to help himself.
"You should see your face," she said.
"I think you've thoroughly confused me."
"Have I?"
"Entirely."
She laughed harder.
Andrei shook his head, a helpless smile spreading across his face.
"I was trying to be helpful."
"Of course you were."
"I was."
"I'm sure."
She tilted her head, studying him for another moment before her expression softened with amusement.
"I was just pulling your leg."
"I realised."
"Eventually."
He laughed again.
There was something disarming about her. She could turn an ordinary exchange into a game and make him forget, even briefly, that he was supposed to be the composed one.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so unguarded around someone he had only just met.
The thought stayed with him as the laughter faded.
"Let me walk you home," he said.
This time, he placed his hands behind his back, making a deliberate effort not to reach for her again before she had given him an answer.
Claire looked him over from head to toe.
Andrei waited.
She seemed to be considering something, although the small smile on her lips suggested she had already made up her mind.
"Okay," she said at last. "It wouldn't hurt."
Then she paused.
"Besides, you're cute."
Andrei stared at her.
The words were so casually delivered that, for a second, he wasn't sure he had heard her correctly.
Then he laughed.
Not the restrained chuckle he offered during business dinners. Not the polite laugh he used to smooth over an awkward conversation.
He laughed loudly, freely, the sound escaping him before he could make any attempt to contain it.
Claire watched him with an expression of mild surprise, as though she couldn't understand what was so amusing about stating an obvious fact.
"What?" she asked.
Andrei tried to answer.
He couldn't.
That only made him laugh harder.
"Oh, my God." Claire shook her head, smiling at him. "You're ridiculous."
He finally managed to draw a breath.
"You can't just say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because—"
He stopped again.
Claire waited expectantly.
Andrei looked at her, at the amused curve of her lips and the complete lack of self-consciousness in her expression, and another laugh escaped him.
She hadn't done anything extraordinary.
She had simply called him cute.
And somehow, standing on a pavement in Santa Cruz with the cool night air settling around them, Andrei found himself laughing harder and more genuinely than he could remember laughing in years.
Claire watched him for a moment longer before walking ahead.
"Are you coming, handsome?"
Andrei straightened, still smiling.
"Yes, ma'am."
She laughed and turned down the pavement.
He fell into step beside her.
The streetlights cast soft pools of gold across the sidewalk, and the breeze lifted a few strands of her dark hair as she walked. She began telling him something about Mia, occasionally breaking into laughter before finishing her own story.
Andrei listened.
He didn't know where the walk would lead, how long it would last, or whether he would see her again after that night.
He only knew that he didn't want it to end yet.
So he walked beside her, matching her pace, while the woman in the fiery red dress continued talking as though they had known each other for far longer than an hour.
Andrei glanced at her.
Claire caught him looking.
That familiar smirk returned.
He smiled and looked ahead.
He had come to Santa Cruz wanting a distraction from his life.
He had found one.
He just hadn't realised that, years later, he would still remember the colour of her dress, the sound of her laughter, and the exact way she had looked at him when she called him cute.
---
Back in the penthouse, Andrei lowered his hands from his face.
The room was silent again.
He looked toward the staircase Claire had disappeared up, his jaw tightening as he remembered the smile she had worn while telling him to return to his loving family.
He could still see the woman from Blue Lagoon so clearly.
The woman who had danced without a care in the world, stepped on a stranger's foot without hesitation, teased him until he couldn't stop laughing, and agreed to walk home with him because she thought he was cute.
He had fallen in love with that woman.
And he had loved her ever since.
Andrei leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again.
Seven years.
He had spent seven years loving Claire.
And somewhere along the way, he had allowed her to believe she had nothing more than his visits, his affection, and the penthouse he kept returning to.
His eyes lifted to the staircase.
He wanted to go after her.
To knock on her door. To tell her again that he loved her.
But the words had already failed him once tonight.
Andrei stayed where he was, staring at the empty staircase long after the memory of Claire's laughter had faded.